


Hey Stranger

by Sofi_Lofi_Artichokie



Category: Original Work
Genre: American Sign Language, Art, Artists, Autumn, Cats, Coffee, Disability, Disabled Character, Drawing, Gay, Gay Character, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Muteness, Pansexual Character, Superpowers, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28084782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sofi_Lofi_Artichokie/pseuds/Sofi_Lofi_Artichokie
Summary: Silence. He hated silence. But for Carlo, words mean death. Until the pretty boy from the park changes his life. Maybe silence isn't so bad.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	Hey Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is my first work uploaded to Ao3. I wrote this for a class and decided to share it with you. Happy reading!

Sirenes. That was the word etched into my left wrist, displayed for everyone to see. I couldn't move and I couldn’t speak. I just stood there and stared at my wrist. Hoping, praying, it wasn't true.  
I remembered when I first learned about The Arwin System. I was 7, sitting on the couch in the living room of my house, the large puffy cushions swallowing my small frame. My mom and dad were standing in front of me and my older sister Aurora, desperately trying to get us to understand.  
“So basically,” Aurora simplified, “a long time ago, some dude named Arwin decided that humans should be more powerful and used his old wizard magic to give all the adults powers?” She looked at our parents questioningly.  
“That's a very crude way of saying it but you got the gist. That's why I can disappear and your dad can fly.” My mom showed us her wrist. Written there, in black ink, was the word ‘Invisibility’, my father’s said ‘Flight’.  
So there I was, at my eighteenth birthday party, staring at the space just below my palm, afraid to speak and risk killing anybody. You see Sirenes is one of the worst powers you can have. It poisons your voice. No one can hear it without dropping dead then and there. Eventually, I looked up and made eye contact with Aurora. I slowly held up my wrist, palm facing outwards, the inky words screaming my misfortune for her to see. She gave me a pitying look and turned towards the kitchen, gesturing for me to follow. I gazed around the room, everyone either had a scared look on their face, or a disgusted one. Then, I saw my parents. They looked concerned.  
I walked to the kitchen, leaving the deafening silence of the dining room. Aurora wasn't in there anymore so I sat on the counter and waited, suddenly finding my feet very interesting. My parents came in shortly after. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aurora walk back in, a pad of paper and a pen in one hand and her phone in the other. She handed me the pen and paper.  
“For communication,” she clarified. I took them, looking at my other family members expectantly. They stared back. What are they looking at me for? I literally just found out, I don't know what to do either!  
“So…” My dad trailed off, looking around at us. “This could be a problem,” He announced with a huff. I gave him a look that said yeah, no duh.  
“Let's start from the bottom.” My mom took charge, straightening up, placing her hands on the counter in front of her. “Carlo,” she turned to me, “I'm sure you already know this but don't talk to anybody. Keep a piece of paper and a pen on you at all times. We should start looking into learning sign language for easier communication.” I nodded. Then on the paper I wrote, ‘School? Work?’ We continued to discuss what seemed like my entire future. By the end of it, I had used up two entire pages of paper attempting to get my ideas and opinions heard or, read I guess. There were multiple occasions where Aurora had to clamp her hand over my mouth to keep me from talking or screaming in frustration. But it was ok. We had a plan.  
-  
That was five years ago. Since then, I have moved on and started my own life, without speaking of course. My life has changed drastically since then. Now, I interpret American Sign Language for a press company and get paid pretty well, all things considered. I have my own apartment with creaky floors and a noisy radiator in the corner. It's on the fifth floor of the complex, and, if you ask me, I’d say it is the cleanest one in the building. It would probably be too large for just one person, but would definitely be too small for two.  
That isn’t a problem for me however, because nobody seems to want to be around me. It's hard for me to meet people when we can't communicate, and the people who I do meet, when they catch sight of the word inked into my wrist, they make a quick excuse and walk away. After this had happened one too many times, I decided to stop trying.  
Being alone has taken a toll on me, though. Around the time that I stopped attempting to make conversation, I noticed that I have been having trouble focusing and never seem to be able to sleep. But I guess they’re just side effects. A nudge against my leg pulls me out of my thoughts. I look down to see my cat, Pumpkin, sitting on the sofa next to me, rubbing her head aggressively on my hand and knee.  
“Hi baby,” I murmur softly. She only has three legs and is deaf, so I can talk to her. I named her Pumpkin after the color of her fur, which is a pale orange with darker stripes. I think getting a cat was one of the best decisions I made in all of my adult life. She makes me feel less alone. I get up and stretch out my arms and back. Jeez, I need to stop sitting for so long. Turning around, I scoop Pumpkin up into my arms and scratch at her sweet spot, in between the corner of her mouth and the bottom of the ear. She purrs loudly, signifying her pleasure.  
I continue to scratch as I make my way towards my bedroom. Once I get there, I let Pumpkin jump out of my arms. She lands softly on the bed and starts grooming herself while I grab my sketchbook and pencil pouch. I walk back out of the room and to the door. I snag a light jacket off the coat rack near the door and throw it over my t-shirt.  
I stroll out the door and fumble with my keys, attempting to lock it. After a few attempts, I can finally walk down the hall and stairs. As I exit the building, I curse the chilly autumn air. Shivering slightly, I take a big, deep breath. The scent of car exhaust and fresh baked bread from the little bakery up the street fill my nose. Sighing contentedly, I head off in the direction of one of Scarsdale’s many parks. I amble past all of the little boutiques and cafes that are full of late afternoon customers seeking refuge from the crisp air. I smile and wave at our resident pauper on the corner, Dave, tossing a few coins in his tin as I walk past.  
When I arrive at the park, I head over to my usual bench. When you live in a small town like Scarsdale, New York, the little things seem to spread like wildfire. Like this bench for example, whenever I come to this park, I always try to sit on this bench and now everyone seems to know that it's my bench. Not that I’m complaining, it's nice to not have to wander around looking for an open bench and there's no way I’m going to sit next to someone. The old Carlo might've, but that's not me anymore. I used to be super rowdy and extroverted but since I got my ability I’ve decided to live a quieter, calmer life. It’s not like I could say anything anyways. Not many people know how to sign or understand sign, which is something I am kind of thankful for because I would rather not let people know that I could kill them with one word.  
I sit on the bench, the coolness of the metal seeping through my jeans, and look out at the scenery around me. I always choose this park because it reminds me of Italy. My family lived there up until I was 6, Aurora was 8. Then we moved here and have lived in the U. S. ever since. I brush a piece of my curly brown hair out of my face and open my sketch book. I have found that drawing helps me order my thoughts and express myself in a way that is not speaking. I start sketching the people in the park around me. Glancing up every so often to add detail. The first thing I draw is an old woman sitting at the bench closest to me, feeding the birds seeds from a crinkled brown paper bag.  
As I swivel my head to find something else to draw, I catch sight of something moving quickly just outside of my field of vision. When I turn towards it, I see a guy around my age jogging up the path. He has earbuds in and a steady sweat trickling down his face, sticking his dark hair to his light skin. There is a dusting of caramel freckles across his cheeks and nose. I can see the definition of his muscles through his dark athletic gear. He glances at me as he runs by. Dang, he’s kinda cute. He comes to a slow stop, turns to face me and walks over to my bench. He pops an earbud out of his ear.  
“Thanks,” he exclaims, his deep voice resonating through the air. I notice a twinge of Mexican in his accent, but there is something else there too. Irish maybe?. It is a weird combination, but oddly soothing. Wait what? Did I say that out loud? How is he not dead? What if he’s immune and I killed someone else? Oh my gosh-  
“Whoa! Dude chill out! It’s alright, I can read minds. It’s my thing,” He says calmly gesturing to his wrist, where I can see the words ‘mind reader’ in the same dull black ink. “Let’s start over. Hi, my name is Oliver Shayne and I am originally from Bellingham, Washington.” Oliver extends his hand for a shake.  
“I uh….uh….Hi? I’m Carlo Vitali and I’m from Italy.” I try to direct my thoughts at him. He seems to understand.  
“Nice to meet you Carlo, would you mind telling me why you don’t talk?” Oliver inquires.  
“ Um… well,” I stutter in my head, fidgeting with the sleeve covering my words. “You see…” I pull the sleeve up to my elbow, revealing my cursed word. “So yeah, that’s that.” Oliver looks stunned for a few moments, but snapped out of it soon after.  
“Wow, that must be tough,” he sympathizes, “but hey! At least you can ‘talk’ to me.” Oliver smiles at me, putting air quotes around the word talk, chuckling.  
“Y-yeah. We should hang out sometime.” If possible, his smile grows even wider and his eyes seem to sparkle.  
“So, can I get your number? We should get coffee sometime.” He fumbles around his pockets searching for his phone.  
“Oh uh, yeah sure! Sounds great.” He pulls out his phone and hands it to me. I grab it and type in my number. “Uh thanks. I’m sorry if I’m being awkward, it’s just that I haven’t really communicated with anyone in a while. Nobody really wants to talk to someone like me.” I get lost in thought for a moment as a sad look crosses my face.  
“Nah, it’s all good man. I get it.” He reaches out to take his phone back and pats my shoulder. “I’ll see you around!” He shouts over his shoulder, as he jogs off back down the path.  
Oh my gosh, that just happened. I sit there, frozen, for a few minutes, thinking about what the heck just happened. When I finally come back to reality, I realize the sun is setting and hurry to pack up. I speed walk back to my apartment and flop down on the couch, still in awe of the conversation I just had. Pumpkin runs out from my bedroom to jump on my lap. She meows loudly, unable to control her volume, to get my attention. She butts her head on my hand and I pat my shoulder. She leaps up and slings herself around my neck, purring all the way. I take a moment to just sit there and mull everything over. After what seems like an eternity, I stand up with Pumpkin still on my shoulders to make dinner.  
While I am in the middle of eating my food, my phone dings from the counter next to me. The screen lights up and I see a text from an unknown number, ‘Hi Carlo! It’s Oliver, you know, from the park? We might need to take a reign check on coffee, something came up at work.’ I quickly make a new contact for him and respond with a short ‘Ok, hope things get figured out. Text me whenever. Good night’ My phone tells me he read it but didn’t respond. He’s probably just busy. I clean up dinner and drop a scoop of food into Pumpkin’s bowl, the hard tablets clanging on the metal. She munches happily on them while I walk to my bedroom to get ready for bed.  
I haven't heard back from Oliver for a few weeks. He texts me for the first time since the day we met as I was getting ready for a press conference I was interpreting. I was standing in front of my mirror, buttoning up my white dress shirt, when his name pops up on my screen. I finish up with my clothes, running a hand through my curls to tame them slightly, and read the message, ‘Hey! Sorry for not texting! Things at work have been hectic, coffee this weekend?’ I smile down at my phone and respond, ‘It’s alright, this weekend sounds great!’ I pocket my phone and finish getting ready, making sure to lint roll all the cat hair off my clothes. As I walk out, my phone dings again. It’s another message from Oliver, saying that he would text me details when we get closer to the actual day.  
We end up getting together on the Saturday of that week. I get to our local coffee shop first, choosing a high table in the corner windows. As I approach the counter, I decide against ordering for Oliver as I don't know what he wants. I sit at the table, sipping my white mocha, staring out the window at the passers by. Every time the little bell on the door jingles, I look up expectantly. Finally, after the fourth time I look up, my hazel eyes meet with Oliver’s emerald ones. He orders his drink and comes to sit down.  
“Hey stranger,” he says lightheartedly, “how’ve you been? It’s been a little bit since we talked, how is work?” To someone looking at us from the outside, Oliver might look crazy. But to me, it was really nice.  
“I’ve been well, work has been kinda slow but that’s just because there is no news right now.” He pauses for a moment, thinking about what I just told him.  
“So, what do you do? Like, it must be kind of hard to find a job when you can’t talk,” he says with empathy, slowly stirring cream into his black coffee.  
“Oh! I realize we haven’t really talked about our jobs much. I interpret ASL for a press company. That’s what I meant when I said there hadn’t been much news lately.” He nods in understanding.  
“That’s cool. Have you always known sign language or just since your eighteenth?” He seems genuinely interested in the conversation, which surprises me a bit. No one ever wants to talk to me this much.  
“Uh yeah, it’s nice I guess. It’s got pretty lenient hours and good pay. I started learning sign when I turned eighteen and just picked it up quickly.” I take a sip of my drink. “So what do you do?” He contemplates the question, seeming to have an internal battle with himself.  
“I work for the FBI,” he says, lowering his voice so no one can hear. “I’m an agent that specialises in interrogation, so basically I act all intimidating to get answers out of criminals. They say I’m an ‘asset’ to the team because of my ability, but that’s not really common knowledge so keep it on the down low.” He looks worried, so I smile reassuringly.  
“That’s awesome! And don’t worry about people finding out. It’s not like I can tell anyone anyways.” I wink and he lets out a small laugh.  
“So did you live in Italy or is your family from there? I can hear a bit of your accent in your thoughts.” He looks at me thoughtfully, like he was trying to remember what I sound like.  
“I lived there until I was six and then I came here. I moved to Scarsdale pretty soon after my eighteenth birthday. How long did you live in Washington?” Oliver has kept eye contact with me the entire time we’ve been talking. It’s weirdly normal.  
“Ah! That’s where I know your accent from! My cousins live in Italy, I’ve been to visit once or twice. I lived in Washington, Bellingham if you’re being specific, for as long as I can remember. But my mom is Mexican and my dad is Irish so I guess we’re just kind of all over. I moved up here because the New York branch of the FBI needed me. I live out here though because the city is too busy for me.” We talk like this for a while. Exchanging questions and answers, getting to know each other better and generally just joking around. But all good things must come to an end. I get called into work last minute, apparently there is a speech I am supposed to be at but no one told me about it. With a quick explanation to Oliver, I hurry out of the coffee shop and towards my house, hoping Oliver would understand.  
Thankfully he did. We hang out pretty frequently now. It’s different from how I used to live, but a good different. I don’t spend all of my time alone anymore. Now I go out for meals with Oliver a few times a week and he has become a very close friend to me. He even introduced me to some of the people he works with. I have gained more friends since I met Oliver than I have in the past five years.  
On one of these occasions, where Oliver and I were at the bakery up the street from my apartment, he was talking rapidly about, well, I really don't know what he is talking about. I’m lost in thought, thinking about the way the light dances cross his eyes and the way his long fingers flit around animatedly through the air in between us. He looks so...so excited and energised. I can't help but find it... incredibly attracti- No! Don’t think about him like that! That's weird. He’s the first friend you’ve had in a long time and you don't want to drive him away! Silence from the real world pulls me out of my thoughts. Oliver looks at me, expecting me to respond. Oh! Uh, yeah definitely. My cheeks heat up, hoping that he didn't notice my other train of thought. Oliver nods and takes a bite out of his muffin, looking at me suspiciously.  
“Are you alright? Your face looks a bit flushed, are you feeling well?” My face turns a shade darker when he mentions it, but I wave it away and pass it off as the warmth of the room. Then, I make a hasty exit. I really hope he didn’t notice. I walk to my apartment and start formulating a text to send to Oliver. Trying to think of what to tell him, why I left, what I'm doing.  
It's been months since that day in the bakery. I’ve been trying so hard to keep my thoughts to myself. To only think of him as a friend, nothing else. To keep our interactions friendly, nothing else. No chemistry. No feelings. Purely platonic, nothing else. But it's so hard. I’ve drawn back into myself. I was coming out of my shell, only to be scared back inside. Stupid feelings, messing up a perfectly good friendship. Our time spent together is lessening, the excuses growing. I don't know how long I can keep this up.  
BING! The ringer on my phone startles me, an unexpected noise in a sea of silence. I stretch my arm across the cool counter in my kitchen, grasping my phone and reading Oliver's message. Oliver wants to see me. Oliver wants to talk to me. He said it's important. He said he's worried about me. Instantly I felt guilty. I worried him. Gosh, what've I done!  
We meet at our coffee shop, the one where we first met. Sitting at the same table in the corner windows, sipping our drinks in comfortable silence. The late morning radio plays through the speakers in the ceiling, filling the room with some cheesy pop song about love. Oliver waits for a lull in the music, then he speaks for the first time since we got here.  
“Carlo, I’m worried about you. You seem closed off and you barely speak to me anymore,” He ran a hand down his face and I could see faint bruises beneath his eyes as he continued to speak, “I don't see you often and you seem to always be busy. You’re scaring me, is everything alright?” Oliver fidgets with his shirt and hair as he waits for a response. A few seconds pass as I gather my thoughts, twisting the signet ring on my right middle finger. The ring has my family’s crest on it and has been passed down in my family father to son for decades. We make eye contact and I take a deep breath.  
I’m so, so sorry. In truth, I’ve been… I’ve been avoiding you. It wasn't conscious, I promise. I was just really worried about how I felt and how you would react. It was stupid I know but I was just so stressed and it just seemed easier to ignore you and- Oliver cuts off my nervous rambling by putting his hand over mine and giving me a questioning look.  
“What are you trying to say?” His stare is intense and scary but so caring at the same time.  
I'm saying...I'm saying that I like you, Oliver. Not just as a friend, but more than that. I look up, teeth chewing away at my bottom lip. Oliver looks, he looks happy? He's smiling like an idiot, just staring into my eyes.  
“Not to burst your bubble or anything Carlo, but, I know.” He almost laughs.  
What. The. Heck.  
You knew? I look at him incredulously. This time he actually does laugh. His giggles ring out and every time he looks at my face he seems to only laugh harder. Eventually, he settles down.  
“Of course I knew, you idiot. I can literally read minds and you aren't exactly that subtle.” He is still smiling at me like I just gave him a million dollars. “And, for the record,” He is suddenly serious again, the change in atmosphere almost gave me whiplash, “I like you too.” And it's those four words that will change my life forever.

**Author's Note:**

> What'd you think? Constructive criticism is always appreciated!  
> I have a [Wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/Sofi-Lofi-Artichokie) !


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